Sadly for Eilieen, the night beneath the trees is too dark for songbirds to still be awake to attend her prayers.  Of the few birds in the area that are still awake, she probably wouldn't be happy about having Bilfro's owl perch on her shoulder.

The night passes peacefully, disturbed by neither orc nor badger, and with the wagons provide adequate shelter from the occasional rain showers.

By dawn, the sky has cleared, bringing a chill, low-lying morning mist and a peaceful stillness to the world.  Somewhere nearby, a blackbird starts to sing, and is joined shortly afterwards by more and more types of bird.

By the time the sun starts to rise, the woods are filled with birdsong.  A welcome contrast to the yells and screams which had ended the previous day.

A robin flies down to perch on one of the wagons, tilting its head to watch the activity as the camp starts to stir.

Colwyn awakens with his customary scowl, and watches curiously as Fergus tries to attract the bird with a few crumbs of bread, "Be yer tryin' ter catch it?" he asks, and gets a smile from Fergus, "No.  It's bad luck to hurt a robin.  Very bad luck for a farmer to do it."

OOC: Morning - spell lists for the day from those that need to prepare them, thanks.

As pretty as a dawn in spring - should it be one of those where the weather looks rather unpleasant - Bilfro rises with a melodic and gentle yawn, not unlike that of a donkey looking for a mate right there and then.  It is almost as if last night was repeating itself sound-wise.

"Robin?  No, I dreamt of a bat-man, half man, half bat.  He was sad because he had lost his parents, just wouldn't shut up about it...  Dreams, bah."

He inhales deeply and starts a wheezing cough.

"Why I do that, I - cough - have no id- cough - idea..."

A cough-solo worthy of applause.

"....it only makes me cough...."

Colwyn gives Fergus a look which seems to imply, infer, and indicate that he may be less than entirely certain of Bilfro's sanity.

"A bat-man yer's sayin', Bilfro mate?  See, now, that's soundin' a bit like one of them there owlbears what Aarnr's always rattlin' on 'bout.  I's bettin' as 'ow if'n 'is mam an' dad's bein' dead, it were 'im what did 'em in.  Stan's ter reason, dunnit?  What with 'im bein' a bleedin' 'alf-man, 'alf-beast monster an' all."

The rogue smiles cheerfully, and claps Bilfro on the back, "I's reckonin' as 'ow it were Aarnr's tales of owlbears as made yer be dreamin' 'bout this 'ere bat-cove.  Bit of brekkers, an' yer'll be right as rain."

Across the camp, Honil rises, and starts the morning with a quick head count, just to assure himself that nobody else has died during the night...

Erista wanders quietly along the edges of the camp, occasionally bending her knees a bit (she does not actually have to `reach down' particularly) to pick a flower.  She waves briefly to Honil, perhaps affirming that she's not dead but probably just saying good morning, as she rounds his end of the camp in her circuit.

Coming back, she bears a loosely woven circlet of flowers, with the blue quartz held at the center.  Walking up to Eilieen, she holds it up to her.  "I just wanted to say a thank you," she says.  "For.."  She shrugs a little.  "Who you are."